Living in Memory
by the ticking clock
Summary: He had been good, once. But that Damon is gone. He exists only in memories. Oneshot.


**This takes place somewhere during seasons 1 and 2. It ended up being quite long, and Damon just didn't want to be written...I hope it's not too horrible...please let me know what you think! **

He had been good, once.

Sometimes, late at night, he would sit by the fire and remember. He's pretty sure that Stefan knows, but his brother leaves him alone. Damon is grateful for that. He told Jeremy that he wasn't really good at being the big brother, but there was a time when he was.

He had cared, back then, cared so strongly, he had loved. Loved Stefan. Loved Kathryn.

When he had first been turned, he had cared as well-tried to stop his little brother from turning into a complete monster, tried to preserve some of his humanity.

He's not quite sure he remembers when he gave up, when he _couldn't take it. _When, after hearing Stefan say that he could turn it off, that he could shut out the pain, he finally decided to do it.

It had been as easy as breathing. He was a vampire, It was in his nature _not _to feel.

But he still felt something...still loved Kathryn, longed for her.

Look where that got him.

He smirks a little at his own helpless stupidity, and takes another sip of his drink. The alcohol tickles as it slides down his throat, a small comfort as the ever present hunger gnaws at him. The craving.

He doesn't really know how Stefan does it, defies his nature and drinks animal blood. He's not sure how his brother can allow himself to feel so much. Stefan has even more guilt and blood on his hands than Damon does, and he chooses to feel all of it.

Elena would say that Stefan chooses to feel because he hasn't lost his humanity, because he's still a good person. And Damon would laugh at her.

Even though he hates him, even though a part of him wants to see Stefan dead, Damon knows his brother. And he sees a darkness in him, strong and biting and fierce, the same darkness that allowed him to relish his first weeks as a vampire, that turned him into a ripper.

Sooner or later, Stefan would stop his martyr act and come to his senses.

He hopes.

Sometimes he wants to give into to that small part of him that actually does _feel _something, but the possibility frightens him so much that he never does. He remembers what it is like to feel, to _care _and how much it hurt, and he never wants to feel that again.

But he does. Sometimes.

He feels when he sees Elena kiss Stefan, he feels when he thinks of Kathryn, out there, not caring what happens to him. He feels when he sees his brother hurt.

Because, even after all this time, even when he wants to stake his brother himself, he can't. Stronger than his instinct to _not feel _are his memories.

And he remembers when Stefan and him were best friends, when they would run together and laugh and tease and wrestle. When they were both blessedly human, when they could communicate without even saying a word. When he felt responsible for his little brother.

He still feels responsible for Stefan, even if more often than not, it is Stefan getting him out of the dangerous situations he ends up in.

There was good in him, once, and even though it is buried deep now in layers of hate and darkness and pain, sometimes, sometimes he allows himself to _feel_, even if only for a second.

And it is on nights like this one, when he is alone by the fire and Stefan is gone with Elena, and his mind is full of memories and he is hungry and he feels so _lost _that he gives in, for just a second.

He gasps at the force of the emotions, at the burn of them, fiercer and stronger than his craving for blood. He drowns in them, tightens his hands into fists and pushes them against his forehead until his fingers ache, savors the salt water burning in his eyes-

And then he switches it off, easily, effortlessly. He can never be good. Not when he is this person, not when he is a vampire. It's not in his nature, and it never will be.

He was good once, but that Damon is lost. Living only in memory, and he doesn't want him to come back. This is who he is now, this vengeful, sarcastic vampire determined not to feel, even though every time he looks at Elena, she takes his breath away, and not just because she looks like Kathryn.

Taking another sip of his drink, he closes his eyes.

There is a part of him, still, that clings to himself, the human Damon from 1864, who was sweet and funny and reckless. Stefan is the only one who really sees that person in him anymore. The others see only a dangerous monster.

But that is what he is.

There is darkness in him, and no matter who he was in the past, that will never change.

He is a vampire.

Stefan saw to that, and now that Damon who wanted to die because Kathryn was gone, the older brother who _cared _doesn't exist.

But sometimes, when it is dark and he is alone in their house by the fire, he lets himself remember. Stefan finds him, that night, and sits next to him. "Hey,"

"Hello, brother." Damon says without opening his eyes, his tone saying what words cannot: _go away. _

But Stefan doesn't leave, and Damon doesn't ask him too.

His brother pats his shoulder and Damon can hear the smile in his voice. "Your humanity's showing."

Damon answers him with a quiet snarl, but they both know it's true.

Maybe he can learn to be good again.

But he doubts it.

There is to much darkness in him now. Too much hate.

So he turns to Stefan and says, "My humanity? I'll show you humanity." And he runs out the door to feed, to forget, to shut off the guilt before it consumes him.

He had been good, once. But that Damon is gone.

And he is never coming back.

Not if Damon has any choice in the matter.

He sinks his teeth into the warm neck of his victim, and as the warm blood fills his mouth and trickles down his throat, he thinks of 1864, and the sweet sound of laughter.

And when he pulls away after the body is drained of blood, he is smiling.


End file.
